


dirty angel

by sweetchems



Series: of blood and mind games [3]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Begging, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Gratuitous use of the words slut and whore, Grinding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Institutions, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Verbal Humiliation, no actual sex technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetchems/pseuds/sweetchems
Summary: Gerard Way will be Frank's fucking undoing.





	dirty angel

**Author's Note:**

> ayyooo buongiorno im fucking tired as fuhk but here's more porn with frank being a dumb dumb and gee being a hella dom!!  
> this is unbetated like all my stuff bcuz having my gf read it is not betaing

“You look stunning when you blush like that, Frankie, sugar.”

 

“And so you- _Ah_ , what?” Frank stops short mid-question, his already large, pretty-boy eyes going wide and a blush permeating his ever so slightly tanned skin that's far deeper than the one already present there, more of a bloody crimson than a rosy pink. “I'm s-sorry, Mr. Way, I must've misheard that,” He stammers with an anxious laugh that borders on being a straight up hysterical giggle.

 

His patient, a certain charmingly cruel Mr. Gerard Way, smiles serenely, and props his chin up on perfectly poised, slender hands. For “good behavior” ( _yeah, right_ , Frank thinks), and proving that he's not at risk of committing abrupt suicide, Mr. Way has been reduced from a full blown straitjacket to simply a pair of white leather, padded handcuffs, binding his hands in front of him to prevent shoulder injury. “I said, you're ever so cute when you blush, sugar.” Christ, his _voice_. Gerard Way's voice could have a straight and celibate Catholic man swooning and submitting, so just imagine what it does to painfully not-straight little Frankie. Shuddering with very obvious arousal despite himself, Frank presses his hands down between his thighs, presses them down into the wooden seat of his chair so hard they go stiff and white. “I'd like to see you red-faced more often, love. Though, maybe a bit less shy. It's so _impossible_ to know what you want when you're so… indirect.”

 

Blushing somehow deeper, Frank glances down at his shoes. “Ah, I…” He trails off, before straightening up. “M-Mr. Way, this is hardly professional, I hope you realize,” He says, trying to fight how shaky and submissive he knows he sounds.

 

“You weren't complaining and bringing up professionalism when I had you riding me so hard you could hardly breathe, sweetheart.”

 

Frank stutters absolutely moronically, his face beet red when he feels himself harden in his pants at Gerard's teasing. He presses his hands down into his seat and squeezes his thighs together tightly, praying the other man won't see the obscenity taking place between his legs. “A-anyways, Mr. Way, would you care to answer my question from a few minutes ago. Why- uhm- what motivated you to start killing?” He manages, looking through his notes and list of questions nervously and not caring that he's tried this query before.

 

“You're not the brightest, are you, love? I've told you this before, I was motivated by beauty. I had this _need_ to make what I thought was beautiful something real, I was just _insatiable_. I'm sure you understand what having needs feels like, sugar,” Gerard explains with a laugh. “I'm sure you yearn and pine for things, same as I do. Possibly even _more_ so, you seem quite… fragile…. After all, you were so easily broken the other day, so eager to be perfect for me…. You're such a _good_ boy, aren't you, love?”

 

A whimper falls from Frank's lips, and he shifts anxiously in his seat, mentally willing his erection to please, please go down. “W-we can't do this again, Mr. Way, _please_ , s-sir-”

 

“Oh, call me that again, why don't you, angel?” Gerard's lips twist upwards in a smirk, and there's this fucking look in his eyes again. It's that “I want to eat you alive, you pretty little thing” look he had a few days ago. The one that lead to Frank being strapped up in a straitjacket and fucked till he cried and couldn't even fucking handle himself any more.

 

Frank can't stand that look. It makes him feel all… all…. _Funny_ , inside. It makes him think of Gerard's teasing words, and his hand around his throat that day as he whined and moaned helplessly. He still has fading hickeys on his neck and jawline from the incident….

 

He clears his throat and straightens up in his seat again, shifting his hands up to rest on his thighs. “What I meant by asking you that question again, M-Mr. Way, was that I wanted to know if a particular person was the one who pushed you over the edge and made you want to kill, or if it was just your ideas of beauty in general-”

 

“Ah-ah,” Gerard stops him from continuing with a silencing noise and a smirk. “Save the questions, princess, and explain to me what made you think you could hide how much you want me.”

 

Frank's eyes widen, and he tries to shut his legs again, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “I-I don't-”

 

“Hush, love,” Gerard soothes. “C'mere, come sit on my lap, and I'll see if I can answer your silly questions then.”

 

A wave of shaky, needy subservience falls over Frank at those words, and _ah_ , he wants to be good so, so badly. So he stands up from his chair, wincing slightly when he realizes just how _achingly_ hard he is, and shakily makes his way to Gerard. As he sits himself on the man's thigh carefully, he finds himself oddly secure, thinking that, y'know, Gerard really can't do too much harm. He's still handcuffed, after all. What's the worst he could do?

 

“So pretty….” Gerard purrs, and Frank remembers, ah, right, he can do _that_. “Continue with your little questionnaire, sugar.”

 

Frank bites his lip and averts his gaze momentarily. He's trying so, so hard to keep what pitiful shreds of his composure he still possesses. “Right, of course…. You, ah…. d-didn't ever answer what I asked you….”

 

“Of course, my apologies, little love. I suppose there was _something_ about my first victim that tipped me over the edge. You know, he looked a lot like you, Frankie…. Maybe that's why I'm finding myself so… drawn to you.” Gerard's low, flirtatious tone and sly smile with a hint of something dirty to it have Frank pretty sure he's actually _shaking_.

 

Frank nods a bit. “I see. You know I can't use any information in which you discuss our… relationship, don't you, Mr. Wa- O- _oh_ ….” He trails off with a soft, gasping whimper at the sensation of Gerard's thigh shifting- no, fucking bouncing- underneath him. It's such a _slight_ movement, but it feels so good….

 

“Oh, what's the matter, sweetheart?” Gerard feigns innocence, shifting his leg again. Frank lets out a soft, needy noise at the feeling, hips shifting to grind down into the contact. “That's it, pretty….” Encouraging Frank to continue as he bounces his leg again ever-so-slowly, Gerard murmurs praises into his ear.

 

Frank whines high in his throat, allowing himself to grab a desperate handful of Gerard's shirt in one hand for just _something_ to cling to. He rolls his hips slowly down, shutting his eyes and whimpering at how _good_ it feels to get some relief.

 

“Look at you…. Such an angel, such a pretty little wreck, and all for me….” Gerard purrs, breath burning hot against Frank's neck, sending shivers through pitiful, achingly needy body and making pathetic little noises leave his lips. “Such a beautiful boy, getting off on my thigh, ‘cause you know I encouraged it because I know what's best for you….”

 

“O-oh, _god_ ….” Frank sighs desperately. He can _feel_ his body going all trembly and needy, and he can't fight it. The beginnings of tears are filling his eyes, clouding his vision as he grows so desperate to be touched. “ _Please_ , please touch me, I promise to m-make it up to you, Gerard,” He gasps, shuddering as he bucks his hips down in search of friction. What the _hell_ has happened to his voice? He hardly recognizes the desperate, whiny, high pitched sound of it. That can't be _his_ voice.

 

Gerard smiles, the look positively evil as Frank gasps faintly and presses his face into the crook of his neck, hips pushing down desperately as he seeks touch. “Such a perfect whore, aren't you, angel?” He purrs, eliciting a tiny whimper from Frankie. “You know you shouldn't do this, but you're so eager to please me that you'd rather take the consequences than disobey. Isn't that right, my love?”

 

“M-mhm…. P-please, touch me, Gerard, oh, _God_ ….” Frank agrees in a hurry, only to revert to soft, shy pleas as he hides the look of shame on his face. He grinds his hips down with a whine, trying and failing still to get the friction his pleasure starved little body needs.

 

He tries to press a kiss to Gerard's neck, but the moment he starts to suck a hickey onto the bare skin, Gerard pushes him away with cuffed hands. “Can't do that, remember, baby?” He smirks at the wide eyed, helpless look on Frank's face. “People might catch on to what a little whore you are if they see your marks on me.”

 

“'m n-not a whore….” Frank stammers as his face heats up, mostly trying to deny to himself that he loves hearing the degrading name directed at him. God, he's _such_ a whore, the biggest fucking slut known to man. His own thoughts send a shuddery, whiny sound spilling from his lips.

 

Gerard smiles wickedly, eyes dark with want. “That's right, doll. You're _my_ perfect, obedient little whore. Mine, and nobody else's.” He shifts his leg, and Frank lets out an oversensitive whimper, pressing into him desperately. He presses his lips to Frank's neck, before biting down on the soft, pale exposed skin. Frank lets out a helpless noise, pressing his hips down needily. And he doesn't _stop_ , leaving trails of little red love bites dancing across Frank's throat, which is open and bare for him today.

 

“Please, please, please, _please_ ,” Frank whimpers, a mindless chant that even he can't keep track of as it spills from his lips. “Oh, God, Gerard, fucking hell…. ‘m close, ‘m gonna come….”

 

Suddenly, all the contact _stops_ , one of Gerard's bound hands gripping Frank's hip, stopping him from moving. “No you're fucking _not_. You're going to hold it till I say you can come. Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

 

Frank nods obediently, his lip catching between his teeth as he chews at it, eyes big and perfectly worried. “I-I understand, yeah…. B-but it's- fuck- it's not fair, I really don't think I _can_ -”

 

“Save the pleading, princess. I've done wretched things to pretty boys who begged harder than you, so don't even think I'll listen unless you're willing to really make me want you.” Gerard's voice is the maddeningly arousing middle ground between a snarl and a purr. The sound of it alone makes Frank whimper and whine, a thin sheen of tears clouding his eyesight. “Oh, don't cry, though, pretty. I never said I didn't like to _hear_ you beg. Go on, use your words like a good little slut.”

 

Frank squirms and shudders, face turning positively scarlet. “I-I… _please_ , sir, you've gotta let me come, please….” He whines, tears of desperation rolling slowly down his cheeks. “I'll be good, you can do anything you want to me….”

 

Something _dark_ comes up in Gerard's eyes, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “If you could let me do _anything_ I wanted, we'd be here for hours, sugar. You wouldn't be able to think straight when I was done with you. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart? Wouldn't you like to be my pretty little fucked-out whore, like me to torture you for _hours_ before I let you come for me?” His voice is low and teasing and has Frank absolutely melting, turning into a whimpering mess all over again. Well, it's not like he ever stopped being a complete and utter mess, but the point still stands.

 

“Y-yes, please, absolutely, sir…. Anything you want….” Frank replies hazily, a fog of arousal heavy over his frail and needy mind.

 

Gerard's lips meet his neck in a soft kiss that quickly turns into something wet and bruising that actually fucking draws blood. “You're such a good boy….” He coos, the words almost mocking. “Pretty little thing, aren't you…?”

 

Frank whimpers in reply, sensitive body shaking so, so badly. At the point, he isn't even sure if he's in control of his own body, or if Gerard already has his every move trained perfectly. He honestly wouldn't be surprised to find out that he's already been completely mentally changed by words and a couple good fucks. Gerard has this phenomenal way with his words that's most of the reason why he can make Frank a total crying mess. Frank shudders suddenly and violently at the sudden assault on his comprehension and coherency that is Gerard's lips against his. A weak whine leaves his lips, and it feels like he's been severed from his body in almost all ways as he goes _limp_. Really all he's doing is feeling, drinking in the pleasure and moving towards it without meaning to, drowning in the overwhelming warmth of the touches.

 

Gerard murmurs praise against his lips between kisses, and Frank's grip on what's real is so far gone that his mind's soaring with pleasure. For all he knows, this could just be an elaborate wet dream. He hopes it isn't, because he _really_ wants to come under Gerard's touch again.

 

He needs Gerard to be his undoing, needs it like fucking air. He needs it _right fucking now_ , he needs to be ripped apart and called pretty for how he looks afterwards. “A-ah, _please_ , m'gonna….” Frank sobs needily, hips moving in easy, automatic rhythm as he grinds against his patient.

 

“Ah-ah, you're not doing _anything_ unless I give you permission, little one,” Gerard hums. His orders are answered by a pathetic sob from Frank, who seems nearly completely unaware of how filthy he's acting. With his mouth hanging open in a string of whiny moans that he can't seem to stop himself from making, his hands gripping at the fabric of Gerard's shirt like he's clinging to reality, and his body moving automatically against Gerard's in search of relief, Frank is the very picture of obscenity, and Gerard _loves_ it. “I wish you could see yourself, sugar…. You're perfect, so pretty….”

 

Frank whines out a soft “please”, unable to manage anything else to more accurately convey the tight, aching, hot, _I want_ feeling pooling in his stomach that's getting harder to ignore by the second. “I-I’ll get you off, just- ugh, _please_ ….” He brings his hand down to palm at Gerard, his face flushing darkly at the _filth_ of this goddamn situation, and at how fucking _big_ his patient is. God, that's such a cheap whore line. After some incompetent, helpless attempts at pleasuring Gerard, Frank gives up with a helpless whine, his face burning. “F-fuck me…. P-please, Gerard, please….” He begs pitifully, a few stray tears falling down his cheeks as he finally, _beautifully_ surrenders.

 

“I thought you'd never ask. You really have to swallow your pride more, Frankie. If you act like a brat and don't ask for what you need, you'll never be rewarded. In fact, you've done so well asking nicely, I think I'll let you come now.” Gerard smiles wickedly, and Frank _knows_ the man's being smart with him, _knows_ he's not going to get what he just worked up the courage to beg for.

 

“N-no, that's… I want….” Frank trails off pitifully, before giving up. “Th-thank you, sir….” He manages, voice weak and small. He's praised briefly for being so respectful and _such_ a good boy, and he'd be lying if he said the praise doesn't get to him.

 

Gerard smiles, says he's so proud of Frank for being so compliant, and it almost feels genuine, enough so that Frank's heart goes all quick and tight and the shreds of intelligence hanging from the ceiling of his brain get chopped into bits by the metaphorical fan blades of his big idiotic crush. It's just the icing on the fuckin’ cake when Gerard tells him, “You're such a good boy, sugar.”

 

Frank fucking melts at that, trembling and smiling pitifully like the desperate, in-love idiot he is when stripped down to his basics by arousal. “Th...thank you, sir, thank you so much,” He manages to say, hating how pathetic and whiny his voice sounds. “You, ah…. Y-you did say I could come, right…?”

 

“Yes, angel, I did,” Gerard encourages, bouncing his leg slightly between Frank's thighs. Frank moans, all high pitched, like a cheap whore, having forgotten how _good_ that felt. “That's it, babydoll, make yourself come for me like a good little slut- go on, moan for me, don't you dare shut up.”

 

Gerard's commanding, intense voice is entirely dominant, and it has Frank shaking, nearly sobbing from how good every part of this experience that should be so wrong is. This is so wrong, God, that just turns him on more. “Fuck, _fuck_ , oh, God, Gerard, ‘m coming- A-ah-ah!”

 

Frank comes with nearly screamed moans of pleasure, writhing and grabbing at Gerard's clothes and at his own hair. The wet, sticky, hot mess of his climax is clinging to the fabric of his briefs and no doubt soaking through them, leaving a stain that'll be hell getting out. He comes down from his high shaking and whimpering and fragile. He shouldn't be so wrecked after something like that, should he…? The magic of Gerard Way, everyone.

 

“Pretty boy…. You did amazingly, angel,” Gerard hums proudly. “My good boy, so, so sweet….”

 

Tired body twitching at the praise, Frank gives a dumb smile. He remains in this stupid, fucked-out, almost sweetly happy state for an amount of time he's not sure of, till his end of session timer is beeping, and he has to drag his tired body away from Gerard.

 

“Have a nice day, princess,” Gerard calls with on of his flirty smirk-smiles. “And find yourself a scarf, love!”

 

Frank's cheeks burn red as he scurries out of the room, wondering what the _hell_ sort of marks Gerard has left him with today.


End file.
